


Absolved

by Kalael



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M, it's a Hocus Pocus au with less of the humor and bad fashion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack was seventeen when he decided to visit the man at the edge of the village.  The only name Jack had heard him go by was Pitchiner, or Pitch, so that was what Jack called him as he walked towards the house.</p><p>(The flower crumbled in his hand as he clenched his fist, the sweet smelling white petals now brown with a rotting stench.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolved

**Author's Note:**

> This was for blackice week aaaaages ago and the prompt was halloween so I'd started on a Hocus Pocus AU. There's technically a part two. I have no idea if I'll ever finish it.

Jack had never been one for superstition. Witches and monsters were just lies to scare children, and after Emma had been born Jack hadn’t seen himself as a child to be frightened with stories. He was a big brother who was meant to protect his baby sister, and he didn’t have time for pretend magic. That was why he did not shy away from the man who lived at the edge of the woods despite the numerous warnings from the other villagers to stay away. They said he ate children and brewed poisons that could kill entire villages, that he summoned demons and walked amongst wolves in the darkness to steal people and cattle away. Jack had seen him in the daytime, tending a fantastic garden and caring for a large black horse. He seemed irritable, but not as evil as the villagers made him out to be.

Jack was seventeen when he decided to visit the man at the edge of the village. The only name Jack had heard him go by was Pitchiner, or Pitch, so that was what Jack called him as he walked towards the house.

“Hullo, Pitch!” Jack shouted in greeting. Pitch jolted and turned to look at him, a surprised frown on his face.

“Ah, the Overland boy. What do you want? I’ve not harvested the herbs your aunt was asking about, if that’s why you’re here. You can tell her I won’t be poisoning her sheep any time soon.” He gave a thin smile that didn’t seem quite right. Jack’s own smile faltered slightly.

“Poisoning…? No, no, I didn’t come because of that. I just wanted to say hello, as we’ve never spoken. Funny how a man can live within walking distance of another’s home and never say hello.” Jack put his hands on his hips and looked at the house Pitch lived in. It wasn’t in the best of shape but it had...character. It seemed ancient, with plants growing along the stonework walls. Pitch was lucky to have a house of stone, though Jack did wonder how it was built when the area had not been inhabited for as long as this building appeared to be.

“It is difficult to make house calls when most refuse to tolerate my presence. Which is just as well, since I’m not overly fond of people.” Pitch looked at Jack pointedly, and Jack got the hint but he didn’t budge from where he stood.

“Lucky you for you, then, that I’ve decided to be the one to come calling! Show me your garden, I’ve only ever seen it from afar. Emma loves your flowers and I would like to buy one, if you are selling them.” At the mention of Emma, Pitch’s entire posture changed. The switch was fascinating to Jack, who watched as Pitch’s shoulders went from relaxed disinterest to tense curiosity.

“Your sister?” Pitch asked, his voice taking a strange quality. It put Jack on edge, but as he looked into Pitch’s eyes the nervousness slipped off like water.

“Yes. She doesn’t like your horse, so she won’t come ‘round. That’s why I want to buy a flower for her.” He said in an attempt to turn the conversation back to the garden.

“My horse does seem to keep away visitors.” Pitch mused aloud. He turned and began to walk towards the garden, looking once over his shoulder to make sure that Jack would follow. Jack hurried after him, finding it difficult to keep up with Pitch’s long strides. As they rounded the house Jack spotted the rows of herbs and strange looking flowers that Pitch tended to. These were the things that put the villagers on edge, though Jack’s father had mentioned that Pitch had lived there longer than most of the settlers and had likely befriended the tribe that used to trade with the people in the area. Jack was all too eager to latch onto that explanation for the unusual and amazing plants that were before him.

“I can’t take money for these flowers. They’re far too precious for that.” Pitch told him as they stood in front of the garden. Jack’s face fell and Pitch smiled. “But I am in need of some help with tending to my land. If you come every three days to help with chores, I will give your sister a flower that no one has ever seen before.”

:Really?” Jack asked, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Once every three days? For how long?”

“For as long as it takes to grow the flower. A few months.” Pitch looked out at the forest, which was still green and lush from the rain they’d had earlier that summer. Jack followed his gaze and considered the woods, which would soon change color as Autumn approached.

“But it will be winter soon.” Jack said, disappointed. Pitch shrugged his shoulders in response.

“This flower will bloom in any weather, snow will not harm it. Will you swear to come every three days in exchange for this rare gift?”

“I swear.” Jack agreed without hesitation. Pitch smiled and it was all teeth.

“Three days, then.” Pitch repeated. Jack nodded and bid Pitch farewell, nearly buzzing with excitement although he could never tell anyone of the promise he’d made. Emma would be so happy with the gift that Jack would give her, even if their parents found out they would not punish him for putting such a bright smile on her face.

Weeks passed. Jack found Pitch’s company surprisingly pleasant, though not because Pitch himself was an amiable person. He had a sharp tongue and an awful temper, but he was brutally honest and Jack found that refreshing. They shared a dark humor that the villagers did not appreciate and Jack found himself drawn more and more to the mysterious man that grew such beautiful flowers. Pitch never let Jack see the plant that he was growing for Emma, but he assured Jack that it would bloom shortly after the first snowfall. Jack didn’t mind that it was taking so long, it gave him an excuse to go to Pitch’s home.

His parents hardly noticed his absence. Jack wasn’t in school any longer and since Emma was, he didn’t need to watch her. He finished his own chores quickly and made sure that no one saw where he went on the days he went to Pitch’s. He began to dread the day that he would stop working for Pitch, certain that he would miss his company and cruel wit.

Pitch seemed to warm up to him as time went. Before he would hardly touch Jack unless directing him in how to tend the flowers or the horse, but now he would rest a hand on his shoulder as they walked and spent hours teaching him about the herbs that he grew. Jack was fascinated by the plants, and was ashamed to admit that he was a bit surprised to find that they were all medicinal and not poisonous. Pitch had only smiled when Jack asked about the rumors of poison, and the worries about that slipped away from his memory.

It didn’t last much longer, though. The days grew colder and frost would cover the ground in the mornings. Jack felt his energy leaving him slowly, sapped away by the impending winter and the end of his time with Pitch. The day finally came when Pitch presented him with the flower that he had been growing.

“As promised, the gift of a flower none of the villagers have seen before.” Pitch announced dramatically as he pressed the flower into Jack’s hand. It wasn’t an unusual color, it was pure white and possessed a green stem, but the petals were softer than lamb’s wool and spread into beautiful oval shapes when Jack gently held them out.

“It’s beautiful.” He murmured, awed by the flower he had worked for. It had a strong, cloying smell that made his head swim with a mixture of emotions. Happiness, sorrow, overwhelming adoration. Dazed, Jack looked up at Pitch’s face and was surprised to find him looking seriously at him.

“Make sure no one else sees this flower. Tell Emma to keep it secret. The other villagers will want these flowers as well, and I have only a few seeds.”

“Alright. Thank you, Pitch.” Jack hesitated, not sure if he should leave. Pitch smiled and cupped his face in one large hand. His skin was sallow but he had a strong grip and strange callouses that Jack pressed his cheek against, taking comfort in the familiar contact.

“You’re always welcome here, Jack. I would not turn you out so easily.” Pitch told him. Jack offered a bemused smile that was wiped away when Pitch kissed him. It was light and quick, so quick that Jack was almost certain he had imagined it, but he could not be sure because Pitch had already turned away and gone inside.

Confused by what had just occurred and frightened of the implications, Jack went home and presented the flower to Emma.

She disappeared the next morning, the flower dead on her pillow and light footprints in the snow disappearing suddenly outside of their pasture. Jack knew, with unbearably painful certainty, that Pitch was the one who had taken her away. The flower crumbled in his hand as he clenched his fist, the sweet smelling white petals now brown with a rotting stench. Emma’s footprints stopped just as they began to turn red with blood and Jack knew she had walked out in bare feet, likely still in her nightgown. His mother and father were gathering the villagers, beginning a search party. She couldn’t have gone far, they kept yelling. Torches lit up the early winter morning and Jack curled over, retching into the snow.

“Pitchiner.” He gasped through the tears. “She’s gone to Pitchiner!” A hush settled over the villagers and before anyone could react Jack was tearing off through the snow, just as barefoot as his missing sister. He ran faster than ever before, although his feet stung from the cold and left bloody prints behind. The villagers were likely clamoring behind him, trying to saddle their horses and get their muskets, but Jack knew that it would be too late if he waited for them. So he left them behind and drew ragged breaths as Pitch’s house grew nearer. The curtains were drawn and the chimney did not smoke but Jack threw his weight against the door and stumbled inside.

“I was wondering when you would arrive.” Pitch said softly. He stood beside Emma, who sat limply in a chair with a strange glow emanating from her skin..

“What have you done?” Jack tried to shout, but his voice cracked as he doubled over to regain his breath. Pitch walked forward until Jack could see his shoes, and then he felt a gentle hand in his hair. He wanted so desperately to believe that it was a misunderstanding, that Emma had come to thank Pitch for the gift and that Pitch would clear everything up with the villagers. But then those fingers tightened in his hair and pulled his head up so that he could look into Pitch’s eyes. The usually grey irises were an unnatural gold and Pitch’s skin was ashen, inhuman.

“More to the point, Jack. What have _you_ done?” Pitch smiled and his teeth were sharp. He dragged Jack over to Emma and threw him at her feet. “You gave your sister a flower from a man you knew nothing about. They warned you, didn’t they? They told you I would eat you when you were little. And I would have, if your parents didn’t keep you locked up tight. But now I have your sister, and she will do quite nicely. I have you to thank you for that.”

“You monster.” Jack spat, swinging a leg at Pitch’s ankles. He went down with a grunt and Jack scrambled to stand up and grab Emma. She was freezing to the touch and still glowing, but at least she was breathing. He hoisted her into his arms and made for the door, only for it to slam shut before him. He skid to a stop, his bloody feet leaving smears on the floor.

“Put her down, Jack.” Pitch demanded. Jack looked at him and inhaled sharply at the sight of shadows gathering behind him.

“Over my dead body.” Jack said defiantly. His voice shook despite his courageous front. Pitch paused and cocked his head, as though considering what he had said. Jack thought back to the kiss and hoped, rather hysterically, that the power of love or some shite would change Pitch’s mind.

“As tempting as that is, I do have plans for you. _Set her down_.” Jack hissed as his body moved without his consent, gently placing Emma on the ground. Where were the others? They should have arrived long ago.

“It’s just you and I, Jack. Until the sun rises, my shadows will keep those idiot villagers away. You shouldn’t have come alone, if you wanted a fair chance. But then you would have been too late, and you already figured that out. Clever boy.” Pitch said mockingly. “ _Come here_.”

Jack tried to fight it but shadows curled around his wrists and ankles, forcing him to obey. He ended up standing before Pitch, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes attempting to bore holes into Pitch’s skull.

“You could join me.” Pitch said, his voice soft again. His hands cupped Jack’s face, warm and firm as they made Jack keep eye contact when he tried to look away. “You could live forever, beautiful for eternity by my side. You don’t have to fight it. Just say yes.” There was no power behind this command, which was almost pleading. Jack couldn’t find his voice so instead he spat into Pitch’s face. Pitch didn't react, he only stared at Jack with an unfathomable expression..

Sunlight began to peer through the thin curtains. Jack smiled triumphantly.

“Don’t look so smug, boy. You may have thwarted me, but I will not go down alone. You will not find rest or peace until I have returned, you will not be absolved of the sins you have unknowingly committed, and so long as I am removed from this world you will suffer through hell just as I will.” Pitch dragged his nails down Jack’s cheeks and drew blood, forcing out a pained cry. Then Pitch bit the palm of his hand, smearing his own dark blood over Jack’s cuts. It burned in the wounds and Jack nearly bit through his tongue to keep from screaming. The world tilted and he felt nauseous, then cold, and finally numb. Pitch eyed him appraisingly before smirking.

“What…?” Jack tried to ask, but the shadows released their hold and he collapsed bonelessly to the ground. Both he and Pitch looked to the door as the arrival of the villagers was signaled by pounding and shouting. Pitch bent to pick up Emma, cradling her gently in his arms as he turned to the door.

“You’ll see soon enough, Jack.” The door splintered open and Jack watched as his father stormed into the house. The other village men followed close behind and Pitch was violently restrained once Emma was taken from him.

“We know you for what you are, Pitchiner. You will not escape God’s judgement and we will not allow you to go unpunished.” Jack’s father said. He faltered for a moment, looking around the room. His eyes swept over Jack but he did not react. Jack felt himself stop breathing. “Where is my son?”

Pitch did not even glance in Jack’s direction.

“You can look, but you will never find him.” He said. Jack stumbled to his feet as his father searched the house, desperately calling Jack’s name.

“Father, I’m here, what are you--” His father walked straight through him, going to inspect a closet. Jack choked, words failing him completely as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He looked at Pitch, who was smirking at him.

“You will never find him.” Pitch repeated. Jack watched, dumbstruck, as everyone left without seeing him.

_You will not find rest or peace until I have returned, you will not be absolved of the sins you have unknowingly committed, and so long as I am removed from this world you will suffer through hell just as I will_

It was a curse, Jack realized. Pitch had cursed him to a sort of purgatory that could only be broken when Pitch returned from...from _death _, which simply wasn’t possible. He fell to his knees, staring at his unfamiliar pale hands and trying to remember how to breathe. No one could see him, they only walked through him. Would anyone ever see him again?__

__Somehow he managed to leave Pitch’s house, though he didn’t remember how. He ended up in the town square with the villagers, standing a careful distance away from them to avoid being walked through. The gallows had been prepared and Jack noticed that the execution was being done midday. Likely due to the shadows, which had injured some of the villagers if the bandages were any indication. Pitch was led out to the gallows and Jack found himself wishing that Pitch would look in his direction, just so he might be acknowledged by someone. Pitch met his eyes as the noose was being put over his neck, but said nothing._ _

__“I will ask again, Pitchiner. Where is my son? Where is Jack?” Jack heard his father speak up and he tried to peer around the crowd. His mother and sister weren’t there, likely with the priest or doctor, but his father was standing with stiff shoulders. Jack could not see his face, and he was a bit glad for it. It hurt to simply hear his voice._ _

__“You are a blind old fool who cannot see what is in front of him, and your son was the same. He is paying the price now, and you will never see him again.” Pitch said loudly, looking directly at Jack. People turned to see what he was staring at and for a moment Jack dared to hope, but their eyes went straight through him and they looked away in disappointment._ _

__“You are a demon!” Someone called out. Pitch grinned widely and his sharp teeth gleamed in the pale sunlight._ _

__“Fear never dies, and neither shall I. One day someone will bring me back, however unwittingly, and I will hunt down each and every one of your descendants. It’s a pity your daughter survived. I hope the rest of her days are filled with nightmares.” Jack’s father made a noise between anger and sorrow at Pitch’s words, and then the chair was kicked out from beneath Pitch’s feet. Jack looked away but the tell tale crack of a snapping neck told him that it was over. Pitch was dead, and he was stuck as...whatever this was. A ghost._ _

__The villagers walked through him as they left and Jack tried to reach out for his father, but he only succeeded in making the man shiver. He sat down on the ground, trying to plan his next move. In the end he returned to Pitch’s house to try and look for a way to undo the curse. He could not go home to where his sister was lying ill due to his own stupidity. She was alive, at least. There was that much to celebrate._ _

__Night fell and Jack settled, exhausted, into Pitch’s bed. Hours went by and Jack began to weep as sleep refused to come. The next night passed just as sleeplessly, and then the next, and many more after that. Time passed slowly. The villagers grew older, and even the new generations never came near the house. Jack watched his family grow old, watched Emma get married and start a family of her own, watched everyone he knew pass away over time. All the while he remained unchanged, young and invisible to all._ _

__He never found a way to undo the curse._ _


End file.
